


Defeat

by blueshifted



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 03:37:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueshifted/pseuds/blueshifted
Summary: You can fight, and fight, with everything you have— and in the end, you can still be left with nothing. (Aftermath of ‘Selfishness v. Selflessness’; spoilers)





	Defeat

He held back. Lingered in the hallway, until he heard the others’ doors close.

Everyone back in their places, except him. Everything back to its equilibrium—

Except it  _wasn’t_.

Even with the outcome decided, even with each of them returning to their rooms like it was all settled and over with, he knew better. He could feel how off things were, how off  _Thomas_  was.

How low Thomas was.

He let out a bedraggled breath, starting to take those final steps to his own room. There was nothing for it now.

He paused. Then turned.

There was no mistaking who the large oaken door in front of him belonged to, with its intricate carvings and inlaid gold leaf.

He lifted one hand, hesitating. After a moment, he rested his fingers on the door. Normally there would be warmth, or light from under the edge, or sometimes distant music. A feeling that anything might just be possible, with enough perseverance.

Right now… nothing.

His hand trailed down the wood, to rest on the handle. He stared at it, like it was going to somehow do something on its own.

_Just keep walking. This isn’t your job._

He closed his eyes, and exhaled hard. His hand tightened around the handle, and he pushed the door open.

Roman’s room was just as still and dim on the inside as it had felt from the hallway; add that to the silence, and it was almost  _creepy_. 

And there, in the middle of it, was Roman. 

Roman sat, half sunken into the end of his bed— shoulders slumped, face buried in his hands, motionless and silent.

Defeated.

He stood in the doorway and stared, at least a full minute, before he had the wherewithal to cough and make his presence known. 

Roman flinched at the noise, his eyes flashing up but not immediately pulling his hands away.

He relaxed just a hair. “Virgil.” His voice was still subdued.

“…Hey.” Virgil shifted in place, sliding his hands into his pockets. 

Roman at last let his own arms fall, wrapping them around his middle, but his frame still sagged. He watched Virgil, his expression mild; Virgil shifted again.

“Are you… I mean. You… Deceit…” Virgil sighed, looking away, and pulling one hand back out to rake at his hair. 

Roman mustered a tired smile. “It’s all right, Virgil.”

Virgil glanced up, then back to the floor. “…No.” He took the few steps to reach Roman’s bed, and after a moment’s hesitation, lowered himself onto its edge, a couple of feet from Roman. “It’s not.”

Roman’s eyes went unfocused, staring off into the middle distance. “It’s what’s best for Thomas,” he murmured.

“Thomas is miserable,” Virgil muttered in return. “ _You’re_  miserable.”

He didn’t get an answer right away, which was telling enough on its own. Roman wouldn’t meet his accusing gaze, either. After a few seconds, Roman slowly began to nod, though if it was to Virgil or to himself wasn’t clear.

“It’s what’s  _right_. For  _him_ ,” Roman added, as Virgil’s eyes narrowed.

“Spoken like someone trying to convince themselves,” Virgil replied under his breath.

“It’s who Thomas is,” Roman stated simply. “He will  _always_  give more of himself, than he will ever be willing to  _take_  for himself.” He smiled again, pained though it was. “Even when it hurts him.”

Virgil watched him closely. “Even when it hurts  _you_.”

Roman snorted, a sound that was somewhere between pain and laughter. 

Virgil opened his mouth, then shut it. He looked away, throat working silently. “…I only wanted to protect Thomas.” His voice was distant, uncharacteristically soft. “You know that… right?”

Roman nodded slowly. “I know,” was his quiet reply. 

The two sat in protracted silence. There was so much he wanted to say, none of which he  _could_. All he could do, was  _sit_  there, knowing how wrong this was.

At last, he couldn’t take any more. Without a word, and without warning, he turned and reached for Roman. Roman had only time to straighten up before he found himself all-but-tackled, nearly bowled clean over if not for Virgil’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.

He was still attempting to process what had just happened, when Virgil’s murmured words reached his ears:

“ _I’m sorry_.”

It still took several seconds for Roman to react, but then slowly, he started to close his own arms around Virgil’s back. Virgil squeezed tighter, and Roman tucked his head to the other side’s shoulder, allowing himself to be comforted.

How long they sat like that, he wasn’t really sure. It wasn’t until Roman started to shift in his grasp that he relinquished his hold, though even then Roman didn’t pull away entirely. 

In fact, he didn’t move to let Roman go entirely until Roman finally broke the silence, saying, “The patch on the stomach of Virgil’s hoodie is on the other side, by the way.”

He straightened up, looking down at Roman stiffly. Roman glanced up to meet his eye, and the edges of his lips twisted.

His head drooped back to Deceit’s shoulder, eyes unfocused. Deceit said nothing— made no move to leave, or to change back into his own usual appearance.

After another minute, Roman spoke again. “It’ll all turn out all right. …Right?”

Deceit stared straight ahead.

“…Yeah,” he answered at length, his voice still Virgil’s. 

 

“…Everything will be all right.”

**Author's Note:**

> (cross posted from tumblr, @ajax-blue)


End file.
